What's in a Name
by OUATLovr
Summary: "Emilie. Her name was...Emilie." David couldn't even remember the name of the girl in the car. Albert was not going to make the same mistake now.


War Horse

One-Shot

Albert felt Joey nudge against him playfully, and he smiled, petting the white star on the horse's head, pushing a long, black mane out of his face. Joey let out a whinny, plodding its great hoof into the ground, and leaned into Albert's hand.

It had been so long since Albert could remember Joey teasing him like that, the only being in the world truly glad to see him all the time. Four years, actually. Anyone else would have given up on ever seeing the miraculous horse again, but Joey was Albert's closest friend, and though Albert had mourned his loss over the past years since their parting, secretly, he had never given up the thought of being reunited with Joey once more.

But now Joey belonged to the old man standing in front of him, eying the red and white cloth in his hand like it was a snake come out to poison him. He reached tentatively towards Joey again, pulling him away. The horse let out a snort, not wishing to be separated from Albert.

To be reunited with Joey once more, in such impossible odds, only to have him stolen away again!

Albert swallowed hard. He had lost so much during the war; his best human friend, his innocence as men died before him, some by his own hand. He did not want to return to England without Joey, too. There would be nothing for him in England anymore, nothing but the memories he didn't want to live with.

He would be just like his father.

There was a small moment of silence before Albert turned to walk away, to leave Joey forever. Behind him, he could hear Joey let out a sound of protest, but he ignored it, forced his feet to keep moving. Collin stood a little ways off, respectfully looking away.

Albert took a deep breath, made himself refrain from sighing. He understood why the man wanted to keep his horse, he decided. If the hole in his own heart was anything like the grief that hung in the heart of the white haired man behind him, he did not want this poor old man to face it alone, even if it meant he would.

A girl...The war has taken everything...He drinks, mum...

"And this."

The voice was so soft, Albert almost didn't hear it. His breath caught and he stopped moving. Slowly, Albert turned around, facing the old man and Joey, shock written plainly on his features.

Was this some sort of twisted joke? A moment ago, the old man had been determined to keep Joey forever. Now he was giving him to Albert?

Albert knew it was a fool's hope, but he clung to that hope anyways. After all, finding Joey again, after four years of separation, in a completely different country, had been a fool's hope, too.

He stared at the old man for a second too long, waiting for him to pull back the reins he held out with some reluctance, to say that he was only kidding and that he would never give up Joey. But the man simply held them out, silent, head bowed.

Taking hold of the reins held out to him by the stubborn, but kindly, old man who had bought Joey before he could, Albert glanced up in something between shock and ecstasy.

He had nothing but the coat on his back, and now Joey, as the old man had told everyone at the auction, and now he was _giving_ him to Albert.

Frantically, Albert reached into his pocket, searching for the pounds that were less than a third of what the old man had paid for Joey, but, at the time Albert had received them, had seemed like the world. He knew the man had not asked for money, but his conscience would not let him take the horse without at least offering the old man something in return.

The old man's grief was palpable, for his granddaughter.

"No, no, no," the old man shook his head, backing away from Albert's money as if he were afraid to take it. "He's yours. It's what she would have wanted," the old man told him, eyes downcast and hands shoved into the pockets of his blue coat. He looked on the verge of tears, and for a moment, Albert set aside his happiness to feel a stab of guilt, shocked at the old man's change of heart.

The old man awarded Albert with a sorrowful smile. "And she was the boss." He nodded once to himself, as if to prove it in his own mind, before taking a step back from Albert and Joey.

Albert gave him a pitying, thankful smile in return, running his hand along Joey's neck as the horse, oblivious to the sacrifice the old man had made on his behalf, nuzzled against him contentedly.

Normally Albert would have been ecstatic to have Joey back, and what odds! He could see Collin grinning in joy for him, knew that later, he would be cheering for his Joey.

But all he could pay attention to was the old man slowly making his weary trek down a muddy road, head bowed in grief, not once glancing back. And he knew the old man would remember this moment forever.

Wanting to know something of the old man who had taken care of Joey, wanting to show his appreciation in some way and realizing that he hadn't sounded at all thankful earlier, Albert called out after him.

He knew that, if it were not for the old man's memory of the girl, Joey would have been lost to him forever. The little girl had given Albert back Joey. He would forever be indebted to her, and he didn't even know her name.

Something inside him needed to know the name of the girl who had brought Joey back to him, just as it had needed to know the name of the red haired girl in the car, all those years ago."What was her name?" he called after the old man.

The man stopped at the question, only turning around halfway before he began walking again, "Emilie," he shouted back in Albert's direction, and Albert barely caught the word. "Her name was Emilie."

Albert nodded, petting Joey's mane once more. "Emilie," he repeated, sounding far off. "Thank you, Emilie."

ǁ

It had been two weeks since Albert and Joey returned to Devon, two weeks since the end of the Great War.

It felt like it was only yesterday. The images, memories of the dead piled up, of No Man's Land, of the old man dragging Joey away, were seared into Albert's mind like they had only just happened, and nothing would be rid of them.

Not even his happiness at having Joey again.

Albert had ridden into town on the back of his best friend, after enjoying a peaceful two weeks with his parents, not able to pass the place where Joey had been dragged away by the kindly soldier until that moment.

When the townspeople saw him riding Joey, they lifted up a cheer, remembering the miracle horse who plowed through nearly solid dirt while everyone laughed and ridiculed, claiming it was impossible.

Of course, it should have been impossible for Joey and Albert to find each other again, across the Channel, in the middle of a war.

It was a miracle horse.

He hadn't wanted to come to town, he remembered with vague annoyance as they passed the square where Joey had been sold to the soldier.

As if Joey was remembering that time as well, the horse stiffened, ears laying flat against his head. Albert whistled softly in an attempt to calm the horse down, to keep him from taking off in the opposite direction.

He needed to see the wide open fields again, feel the wind in his hair, and return his father's flag, which had gotten him back Joey.

But the lads had insisted they buy him a drink now that they were all settled and, for the first time in his life since realizing it was the vile stuff that caused his father to be the subject of mockery by most of the village, Albert wanted one. He wanted to sit and talk to someone who understood the horrors of war besides his father, someone who realized just how impossible it was to go back to everyday life like Joey seemed to able to.

Five army boys, including David Lyons, who had become more bearable since the Great War, the last of them to survive from Devon, walked into the little inn and ordered lunch. Albert couldn't help feeling slightly guilty and expected his mother to walk in and see him there at any moment. She'd be hurt that he hadn't told her where he was going, though she would understand.

But, in the middle of their meal during which most of the town had crowded around them, bombarding them with questions, about the war and Joey's reappearance, it was not Albert's mother that walked into the small inn.

She stepped up to the bar, asking the innkeeper for some food for the road, as she had a journey ahead of her. She asked him to please be quick about it, since her father was in their automobile waiting and he was feeling rather under the weather.

The innkeeper hurried to procure the food she had asked for and she stood waiting patiently. Her long red hair fell down around her waist, a deep green dress hugging her frame. She had yet to turn and face Albert, but he could not tear his gaze away from her.

When she finally did turn, it was to the call of someone in the inn, and she flashed them a smile as the innkeeper reappeared, slapping the cloth bundle of food on the bar and holding out his hand expectantly. She handed him a silver coin and picked up the bundle, inspecting its contents.

Albert noticed none of this.

She was the girl from the race, all those years ago, between him, Joey, and David in his car. She had sat up and stared at him with wide eyes, watched as his horse cantered along beside the road. He knew it was her, now that she was looking in his direction.

It had to be her, though she was older now, different. Her hair was a little longer, a little bit tamed down, and her eyes were not as shining as they used to be, but her smile was far more vibrant, if it were possible. She was paler than he remembered, a little thinner.

She turned and walked out the door, and it shut quietly behind her. No one but the girl she had waved to, the innkeeper, and Albert seemed to notice that she was ever there.

Albert acted impulsively, much like he had done when he asked the old man Emilie's name. Leaping to his feet and nearly knocking his chair over backwards, he rushed out the door after her. He flung open the door and found himself standing in the middle of the near-empty street.

Joey let out a whinny in his direction, but he ignored his friend for now. The redhead was climbing back into her automobile, clearly an expensive machine, and the older man beside her was getting ready to leave.

"Wait!" Albert shouted after them, and, as the old man had done, they both turned around to face him, a question on their lips.

Albert ran forward, until he was standing at the redhead's side of the auto, and pulled his army cap off his head, twisting it nervously in his hands. He doubted she even recognized him.

"I...what's your name?" he blurted out, looking up at her with shy eyes. _"I don't know. She was just some girl."_ Looking up at her now, easily even more beautiful than that day when he had last seen her, Albert couldn't possibly believe that.

She blinked at him, and then her eyes lit up the way they had during that race so long ago. Another life, really, one carefree and devoid of the atrocities Albert had faced at war.

"You're that boy who raced the horse. The one who wouldn't jump. I was riding in the car racing you..." she stopped, studying him intently. "I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't remember me," she finally trailed off.

Albert shook his head. "I do," he stated nervously. Then, "We soldiers just got back. David's in there," he jerked his thumb back towards the inn.

She smiled, amused. "I know. I recognized his racket when I went in."

They laughed, and her father cleared his throat, eager to get moving once more. The laughter died instantly, but the girl was still smiling. Albert found himself smiling stupidly as well.

"Well, I suppose I need to leave you now," she said, settling back into the seat of the auto. Albert swallowed thickly.

"Yes, of course," he muttered, taking a step back and lowering his eyes, feeling like such a fool but not really understanding why.

"Emily," she said suddenly, interrupting the silence, and Albert's head jerked up in shock.

"What?" he repeated rather breathlessly, eyes flitting to Joey. How did she know...?

"My name is Emily." She scrutinized him, eyebrows knitting together. "You asked, a moment ago."

"Emily," he repeated dumbly. He wanted to tell her his name, wanted to thank her, but all he could think about was Joey, given back to him on the whim of an old man who said he did it for his granddaughter, a girl named Emilie.

"Aren't you going to tell me your name?" Emily asked with a teasing smile.

And he wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her his name, and how she had been the thing that kept him sane during the war. How he pictured her face whenever the fighting became too brutal to pay attention to, or how his daydreams of her racing again, that impressed look on her face, sustained him while trudging terrified through No Man's land. How not knowing her name had haunted him.

He wanted to tell her that, besides Joey, she was what kept him going these last few years.

Instead, he settled for, "Albert," the word coming off his tongue almost woodenly.

And she smiled. "We should race again sometime, Albert."

The End


End file.
